Best Served Cold
by fuuko no miko
Summary: Hell hath no fury like a jealous Housecarl


_11/1/14_

_Author Notes:_

_Standard disclaimers apply. I'm not making any money off of this. Skyrim is the property of Bethesda and whoever else. I'm just a writer who borrows them for fun and many other ridiculous things._

_I wrote this on June 1, 2014 during a very angry/sad period of my life. I love Skyrim, and I have no grudge whatsoever against Lydia or Jordis. They just happened to be convenient for me to use to channel my frustrations. So please, don't hate me! LOL. I think the story is generic enough to be used in any fandom, with a few minor substitutions. It's sad and it's graphic and don't say I didn't warn you._

_Constructive criticisms are welcome. Pointless flames are not._

_Someone near and dear to resubmitted something for Halloween and I thought I would follow suit. _

_Here goes nothing….Halloween is for stories of terror. This is my version of one._

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><p>The Forsworn forager was confused.<p>

Really, really confused.

She had been up to her daily tasks of cleaning the kill of the day when she heard the battle cries from below. She had drawn her steel dagger to defend herself as the noise got closer. She had seen them, two Nord warriors, both female, launch an attack on their enclosure on Red Eagle Redoubt. She didn't think any of them were the rumored Dovahkiin, as they appeared to be wearing the same type of armor. Housecarls, she believed they were called. They were tough, fierce warriors, going through her entire tribe with bloodthirsty enthusiasm. She was the last, or so she thought, of them when they cornered her in the Alchemist hut she had tried to hide in.

What happened next was, beyond her comprehension.

The younger of the two Nords, a golden-haired maiden faced her first. Being a forager she wasn't much trained in the battle arts and she fought with the little way she knew how. She was screaming that she yielded, hoping against hope that they would spare her life and let her go, unlikely as that was. She had one eye open as the fair young Nord raised her glass sword to finish her off.

Then she fell forward.

The Forsworn forager yelped as the said Nord collapsed before her and landed face first on the ground. She then noted a bit of blood from behind her head. Behind her and holding the weapon of assault, a steel mace, was an older, dark haired Nord woman. The Forsworn raised her arms up in the air to uselessly fend herself from the death blow, but was genuinely surprised when the brunette Nord bound her wrists instead.

"I could make use of you." she said in an even tone that somehow sounded rather spine-tingling.

The next thing she knew both her and the fair-haired unconscious Nord were thrown into a cage deep in the caves. She deduced that the dark-haired warrior was the one who knocked out her companion.

Why she did was a big question.

The blonde started to moan as she seemed to be regaining consciousness. Outside the cage, the dark-haired one appeared to be sharpening something on the grindstone.

Lydia was honing a dagger that she lifted off one of the fallen Forsworn. Once she was satisfied with its precise edge she stood up and walked towards an empty table. She removed from her person a vial of paralysis potion, capable of freezing one's opponent's solid for at least 15 seconds. She had a fair amount of these, as she knew she was going to need more for the task she had in mind.

A sinister grin crossed her features as her eyes turned to the two captives in the cage. Her fellow housecarl Jordis, and the last of the Forsworn that she had decided to spare at the last minute of her miserable little life. She walked over towards the cage and eyed both women who were both bound and gagged. Not that she needed them to be quiet. As well as they had cleaned up this place and as desolate as it was, no one was going to hear them.

Her deep brown eyes narrowed at the younger Housecarl, her lips thinning with displeasure.

"You have the grace of Dibella, the wisdom of Julianos and the body of Nocturnal."

Those words burned in her mind just as strongly the day she overheard her Thane praise her comrade Jordis. She didn't recall when or where they were. All she remembered was that he was raining her flatteries while Lydia was wiping the blood off her Daedric sword. Jordis was giggling…blushing even, at the remarks of her…their Thane. Yes she almost forgot they had to share his attentions now. Since her Thane had bought Prodspire Manor Jordis had come into his service. Lydia at first had been open and welcoming to the new housecarl. Jovial even, that they had a new one in their ranks. Until she slowly noticed that her Thane had begun spending more and more time with her.

Lydia did not like that.

Not one bit.

She had taken a second dagger, this time one of steel and begun sharpening it as well. In her head she replayed all those times when her Thane would bid her goodbye and bring Jordis along for their journey. They would be gone for days and Lydia was fairly convinced they were doing more than slaying dragons and skinning wolves.

She cut herself in the middle of this thought and a drop of blood fell from her finger to the ground where it glistened an eerie, bright red.

"Only a drop." she mused. "There's more to come, and I hope these plants are thirsty."

The dark haired housecarl rose and this time, opened the cage. Jordis was still out of it but her moans indicated she was rousing. Lydia grabbed her by her long, blonde locks and dragged her out of the cage. The Forsworn was quietly observing, fear much too evident in her eyes. Lydia slammed the cage shut and secured it. She then picked up Jordis and slammed her against the torture rack, quickly cutting off her bindings and strapping her hand on each side. She yanked on each one, testing their strength and once satisfied she returned to her work on the grindstone.

"I was his first housecarl…" Lydia murmured as she started honing a third dagger, this one made of dwarven metal. "His first, and his best." her voice started to quiver. "I was there when he first started to slay dragons…when he had just discovered he was Dovahkiin. It was me…me who stood by his side when he was unsure of himself and his destiny. It was me..me who gave him his confidence, guided him in his ways….helped him kill giants, and take down saber cats, and navigate through the stench of the Falmer camps…it was me!"

Her voice reverberated through the cave now, echoing in skin-crawling fashion. Her head whipped towards the target of her flaming anger. "And you? What did you do? Saunter around in your nubile body…tempting him? Enticing him with your youth and your looks and your flirtations? Wow him with your fancy sword tricks?"

Jordis head was bowed, the drying blood among her hair strands caking it. She lifted her painful head and turned towards her fellow housecarl. "Ly…Lydia…what…what's wrong?"

She took two violent steps to the bound Nord, lifting her head by the hair and lining up their faces. "Stop pretending you insipid wench." she snarled before slapping her across the face. "I know what you do when you are not around me…or perhaps even so!"

A trickle of blood fell from her mouth to her chin as she lifted her head up. "Lydia I don't understand…"

"You heard me." the older woman resumed sharpening her new weapon, a fourth dagger. "You, and our Thane. Going on journeys together for days…weeks on end. I see the fire in his eyes for you…and your coquettish ways of looking back at him. I'm not stupid you know."

"Lydia have you gone mad?" Jordis croaked as Lydia hit her across the face a second time, this time with her iron gauntlet. "Our Thane and I, we only share certain interests…there is nothing that goes on….I swear…"

"I'm surprised the Divines have not set your lying tongue on fire!"

"It's true!" the younger Nord attempted to sound clear despite the blood coagulating in her mouth. "We both enjoy swordsmanship…and archery…and perhaps like certain Bards but that's it…we do not share a bed."

"Of course you don't." Lydia replied sarcastically. She turned from what she was doing and smacked her captive again.

"I have a betrothed!" Jordis screamed despite the pains in her mouth rendered by the other Nord's hits. "He is a mage…in Morrowind..we are to be wed…"

But the younger Nord didn't get to finish her sentence as the older one assaulted her again, making her head spin and her ears ring. Her vision started to get fuzzy and the blood began to leak down her throat making her gag.

The Forsworn forager was staring aghast at the sight before her. The one called Lydia had a look in her eyes that was frightening as she seemed to size up the other woman. Clearly they were working for the same Thane, whatever that was. And apparently the older one was jealous of the attentions given to the younger one.

"Lydia please…."

"Your sweet tone may work with our Thane but not on me." she replied sharply as she was mixing concoctions now. The smoke coming from the mixture was black and smelled acrid.

"What did I do to you?" the younger housecarl all but screamed.

A bone-chilling silence filled the chasm of the cold, wet cave as Lydia stood still, a look of incredulousness on her fair features. She turned about slowly, approaching the golden-haired Nord, their faces inches of each other. The voice she responded with was low and mortifying. "You…stole him from me." she paused before continuing in an angrier tone. "You used your saucy, little body and seduced him away from me. You vile little temptress."

"I did no such thing!"

The blade of one of the newly-sharpened daggers now met the meat of Jordis' cheek. "Lets see how much he wants you after I am done with you."

The blonde Nord looked up, the image of pure terror on her face. "I promise, I will stay in Solitude…I will no longer join his adventures….please Lydia you have to believe me. We have nothing….nothing between us…please…."

"Too late, Jordis."

The female Forsworn quickly closed her eyes when she saw the one named Lydia apply pressure to the tip of the poisoned dagger upon Jordis' face. Unfortunately she could not cover her ears as a painful scream reverberated through the cave. Divines only knew what the older Nord was doing to the other one. The forager didn't know what was worse, watching it or imagining what Lydia was doing to elicit that cry of agony from her comrade.

They were so close to her cage that she could hear the dagger on what she could only think of as skin. These sounds disappeared as they were drowned by the wails of the captive Nord. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the sounds of pain she could hear outside her prison. Meanwhile Lydia seemed to be…laughing…enjoying every second of whatever she was doing.

"Lets see how pretty you are now!" she cried. The Forsworn risked opening an eye, not looking directly at Jordis but at the ground by her feet. Locks of golden hair were on there mixed with blood and perhaps, if her eyesight wasn't deceiving her, bits of flesh.

The next sound she heard was the disassembly of armor, and one by one they fell to the ground. When she dared look up to Jordis waist level she could see that the Nord was undone of her armor and wore nothing but her underclothing.

"I guess this is what our Thane likes about you, huh?" she heard Lydia say. "Your perfect little breasts? Your supple ass? Your tiny little waist?"

"No! He has not touched me! I swear on my life! Lydia you have to believe me!"

"He will not want to touch you after this." a sinister cackle was heard, followed by slashing sounds. More cries of agony. The forsworn wanted to tear her ears off, not wishing to hear any more of the torturous sounds. She could hear a few plops, as though something soft and wet fell on the ground. Then there was sloshing, like someone walking on a pool of liquid. She dared not open her eyes for fear of what she may see on the soft earth she lay on.

The young forager started chanting, trying to drown out the painful sounds coming from the mouth of the captive Nord. It was all moot of course, as those pleas for mercy filled her ears, from time to time drowned by a maniacal laughter from the other woman. She could not stand it, as tears began to stream down her eyes, fear overcoming her heart and the hairs raising on every inch of her body.

Make it stop, make it stop, divines make it stop!

It was as though time has slowed down, every violent sound making it even lag more than it already does. She could hear blunt forces now. Like that of a giant's club meeting something soft and yielding. At one point she thought she heard a crack, maybe two. No two guesses that it was likely that of bone. The loud cries have now mellowed out into softer moans. The Forsworn woman guessed that the captive may likely have passed out…or have grown hoarse from screaming. She winced from every thud, every thump, every wet sound.

Then everything was still.

Eerily still.

Save for the heavy breathing of what she could deduce as Lydia.

"He is my Thane." she was heard saying. "Mine. You hear? Oh…I suppose you cannot hear without these now could you?" she giggled giddily before speaking ominously again. "I am his housecarl. His one, true, companion. I have been there for him from the very beginning and I'll be damned if I lost my favor because of a little tart like yourself."

The Forsworn was petrified to say the least. Her heart was racing so fast she could swear it was not humanly possible. She could feel it palpitating in her throat, thumping in her ears. She felt a heaviness in her chest when she heard footsteps in her direction. The key turned in her cage and she could tell the steel boots ceased clicking in front of her face. Her face was covered with tears of fear now, as Lydia yanked her by the hair, lifting her off the ground.

"You will do as I tell you." she warned in the forsworn's ear. "Or you will meet a fate worse than hers. Satisfy me and I will go easy on you."

She nodded, eyes still closed, afraid of seeing what the other woman looked like now. She was dragged out of the cage and pushed forward. She felt a small puddle wet her boots and it was unmistakably the scent of blood.

She then heard the clicking of chains around her ankles and the release of bindings of her hands. Lydia thrust one of the daggers she was sharpening earlier to the hands of the sobering woman.

"Cut her." she ordered.

The captive woman swallowed, choking on her tears. She swung blindly before her, still not opening her eyes. She knew she missed because all she felt was the swoosh of air.

"Now now, how can you cut something when you're not even looking? Open your eyes." Lydia pushed her even forward. "Come on, look. Unless you want the same fate. I wouldn't hesitate."

Slowly the forsworn opened her eyes and for the few seconds that she did she regretted it. The forsworn's eyes bulged in their sockets, a silent scream drowned in her throat, the tingles in her spine becoming sharp pricks that started jabbing at her. The vision before her had no semblance whatsoever to the youthful beautiful Nord she saw earlier. She was damaged, not in large injuries but small jabs in the most sensitive of places…and lacerations…oh divines the wounds….even the worst of the briar hearts would not do such damage. She began to shake in fear, almost dropping the dagger before her.

"Would you like to give punishment or receive it?"

In between loud sobs the Forsowrn obeyed, her hand shaking so bad she almost dropped her given weapon with every strike. Lydia would bark at her and she would bite her hand to keep from screaming and pick up the weapon again.

Divines, let it stop, let it stop.

The younger Nord was unconscious now, likely from the pain, the extent of injury. The Forsworn kept calling to her Gods that the other woman would just be content. As overcome with emotion as she was, the young forager collapsed on the ground on the puddle of blood that was beginning to clot.

"Please…" she begged. "No more…please…"

Lydia smirked before grabbing the slippery dagger from the Forsworn and pushing her aside. "Suit yourself"

Those were the last words she heard before her vision began to cloud. It seems as though the sadistic housecarl had taken some form of pity on her and decided to give her a quick jab of a poisoned sword. Hers was a quick, almost painless demise other than the short stab.

At this point, death was a welcome relief.

Jericho felt as though a cold splash of water came upon him. He had been away on some business with Vilkas when Argis, his Markarth housecarl reported that Lydia and Jordis had taken off for Red Eagle Redoubt mostly because they were bored. When they had not returned for days he took it upon himself to go there with Argis. It was then he saw the most horrifying vision that would haunt him for weeks on end. Jordis was strapped to a torture rack. She had quite obviously met an extremely painful death, given the amount of injuries upon her body. She had been punished without regard or remorse it seems, as he noted the different types of weapons used to render her senseless. On the floor in a pool of blood was a forsworn forager, a sword through her and Lydia lying unconscious…still alive but injured.

"Argis, take her down." he ordered the housecarl, referring to Jordis. "The least we can do is give her a proper burial." He then turned his attention to Lydia. "Are you alright?"

Lydia opened her weary eyes, a sight of relief upon them. "My Thane…" she had released but those two words before she burst in tears. "We were captured…Jordis…oh did you see what they did to her? Its terrible." with that she sobbed upon her thane's shoulder, shaking uncontrollably. "I couldn't save her my Thane….I tried to escape and…it was too late."

He embraced her, trying to calm her down. "Its okay, Lydia. Her soul will be more than welcome in Sovngaarde. Such a shame." he sighed. "We're going to have to notify her betrothed. He will be crushed."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help her, my Thane. I have failed."

He gave her a reassuring squeeze before pulling back and looking into her tearful brown eyes. "I'm sure Jordis will understand, Lydia. Some things we cannot control."

Lydia closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of her Thane's comforting embrace.

He was her Thane, hers and hers alone.

At least until Rayya or Iona looks at him differently.

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><p><em>Author Notes:<em>

_Ah yes, please review. I like them. I do. Jericho the Dovahkiin isn't mine. My Dovahkiin is Urd Wen. Jericho is someone I borrowed to from a good friend of mine The New Mandalord, please feel free to read his stories as well. I didn't use mine because I have something else in store for him. Heh heh heh. I usually end my stoeis with character banter but I'm too tired for one now. Work gets in the way of my imaginary life, it does!_

_Happy Halloween!_


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